"Sue Ellen," J.R. returned home from his first prosperous business meeting to an eerie silence.
"In the kitchen," his wife's response was followed by the unmistakable smell of burning and he rushed to her aid. Sue Ellen retrieved a shrivelled and blackened breast of chicken from the oven while smoke filled the atmosphere with a merciless force, "Damn it!" She yanked off the oven gloves, slamming the material onto the kitchen counter, "Well, there goes dinner." As the kitchen became more and more heated, so did she. "We've been here barely a week and nothing has gone right! None of the clothes I packed are remotely appropriate for this Godforsaken place and John Ross still hasn't adjusted to the cold. He's so cold, he barely sleeps at night, J.R.!"
J.R. nodded, sympathetic. Their son had expressed his discontentment at their outer-state move from Texas in a crystal-clear fashion and Sue Ellen had bore the brunt while J.R. set out to establish himself within the local business community. "Where is he anyhow?"
"He's asleep in our bed, though who knows how long that'll last." Sue Ellen's enthusiasm for their 'fresh start' had visibly decreased. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, J.R.! I'm hardly Carol Brady." The creature-comforts of Southfork she once resented were now all she craved; caterers, cleaners and ranch-hands were individuals she relied on a daily basis. She flicked a few wisps of hair from her eyelashes, "How did your meetings go?"
A Cheshire cat grin spread onto his face, "Lady luck's on our side as usual, darlin'!" He shook off his grey jacket and loosened her favourite blue-toned tie. "Did I ever introduce you to an old college buddy of mine, Alan Campbell?" Sue Ellen shook her head, unsure. "Well, he runs Campbell Energies but he never could tell oil from mud, so he's having a little trouble with the family business - and, by a little trouble, I mean a lot. The company's been in his family since his granddaddy founded it and Ewing Oil sure could benefit from some of the assets they've acquired over the years. His daddy wasn't stupid. A few nudges in the right places, at the right time, and he'll have no choice but to sell."
"Have you called Jock?"
"No, not yet," J.R. fixed himself a pre-dinner drink and his stomach rumbled, nevertheless repelled by the smell of burnt chicken.
Sue Ellen didn't comment; she could only assume it was J.R.'s attempt to have his father sweat about their absence. "Well, I think I'll catch up on sleep while John Ross is still settled. Why don't you order something for yourself?" She plucked the home-catering service business card from the fridge and offered it over.
"Do you have to, honey? I had hoped we would continue our discussion from the other night." J.R. chased Sue Ellen toward the staircase, "Sue Ellen, there's nothing more important to me in the world right now than to have you happy and healthy. It's imperative you understand that." He had no desire to engage in a repeat performance of Sue Ellen's pregnancy with John Ross and he was painfully aware that he would defenceless to control the backlash, if her alcoholism were to rear its ugly head once again. He resented his family's interference at the time but he didn't delude himself into thinking he could handle Sue Ellen effectively on his own.
"I do understand, J.R., and I appreciate your concern, I really do." She sensed his rejection and rested a hand on his arm, "Let's discuss it another time."
"We can't avoid it forever, darlin'," J.R. yearningly warned, his eyes intrusively searching hers. She leaned in and fondly kissed his cheek before continuing her path upstairs. His efforts hadn't gone unnoticed; the morning kisses, his slow but sure shuffles closer toward her in the middle of the night. J.R. wandered into the living room and slouched on sofa where he contemplated his next move for several minutes, at which point he dialled the number for Harry McSween. "McSween, its J.R. here. Do you have an update for me?"
Gruffly, the private eye responded, "Not a whole lot, J.R., but your brother has been in contact with Cliff Barnes."
J.R. unconsciously rolled his eyes, "Barnes! What the hell does Bobby want with that vermin?" Undoubtedly, his demure little sister-in-law had facilitated a détente between her brother and husband. McSween remained helplessly silent and J.R. rubbed his forehead, "Alright, keep your ear to the ground and see what you can find out. I do not want Cliff Barnes involved with Ewing Oil." He paused, in a moment of conflicted consideration, "McSween, I need you to do one other thing for me; I need you to locate my sister-in-law, Kristin Shepard. She should be in California but, somehow, I suspect she's already taken flight and -" he stifled the lump in his throat, "Let's just say, she's of extreme interest to me, for the next few months at least." McSween audibly scribbled his latest instruction and J.R. concluded the phone call when a shadow above him attracted his attention, and the vision of Sue Ellen entered view. "Sue Ellen." His wife silently padded down the stairs bare-foot, in her slip. "Sue Ellen, honey."
"John Ross is almost out of milk. I don't want him waking hungry in the middle of the night."
Her icy exterior seized the warmth from his cheek where her lips had grazed moments beforehand. J.R. kicked himself for the rookie mistake. He was an animal of primal instinct and he hadn't entirely mastered the skill of discretion. "Sue Ellen," his voice pestered and prodded, in attempt to cause her inevitable explosion. "Are you really gon' ignore me? Have it kick around in your mind 'til you explode?"
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, J.R.?" Sue Ellen tore her attention from the frothy milk mixture. "You'd love to call home to Southfork and complain about how out of control your wife is! Should I bother to unpack, or is there a sanatorium around the corner you'd like to imprison me in?" Her attack was scathing, yet not entirely unjustified, so J.R. held his tongue. "Poor J.R.," Sue Ellen mocked, "He can't seem to do anything right for that lunatic of a wife! I wonder how on earth he put up with her for all these years," she verbalised the façade her husband likely abused to brainwash foolish young women into his bed; his flirtatious lines at the expense of her withered reputation. "Well, you needn't worry, J.R., because I'll be damned if I let you have the satisfaction anymore."
"Can't you understand? I'm only trying to do right by the child." J.R. solicited, the exasperation in his tone evident.
Upon her return upstairs, Sue Ellen promptly swerved on her heel, "You're a regular angel of mercy, J.R.!" For once, his intentions were honourable but, as usual, it hurt. The betrayal of the ones who should have been closest to her heart had resulted in her unfathomable resentment toward an innocent, unborn child. Her firstborn niece of nephew would be born one month before her second child and they were fathered by the same man. The desperation in J.R.'s eyes, a plea for rational behaviour, emotionally knocked Sue Ellen off-kilter and she softened her voice a decibel. "I'd rather remain oblivious to your interactions with my sister, J.R.. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need my rest." She hurried up the staircase and J.R. cursed beneath his breath. He despised the state of their relationship; with every step forward, another catastrophe blew them a thousand steps backward. He wondered how they would ever find themselves back on track before the baby arrived.